


Clean

by TextualDeviance



Series: The Raven and the Dove [47]
Category: Vikings - Fandom
Genre: Angst, F/M, Group Sex, M/M, Multi, hot tubbing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-08
Updated: 2015-10-08
Packaged: 2018-04-25 11:29:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4958884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TextualDeviance/pseuds/TextualDeviance
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Athelstan finds Ecbert's bath a source of inner conflict</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clean

A drenching summer squall had settled in over Ecbert's villa, pushing everyone inside. This was not necessarily a bad thing, Athelstan noted. The past weeks of hard physical labor at the settlement had made his muscles and joints ache; the pain of missing Ragnar and wondering at why his wounds had bled again caused aches far deeper. So it was with relish that he agreed to Ecbert's invitation for an afternoon and evening lounging about his quarters. Food and wine were in abundance, and conversation was lively.

The last of a hearty plate of olives, bread, and cheese settled into his belly, which was also warmed by the rich, red wine that had been generously passed. His head felt fuzzy; his body languid. Ecbert and Lagertha were laughing at one of the latter's amusing language mistakes, and Judith . . . well, she sat across the table from him, staring in a way that made him feel naked.

Ecbert glanced around. "I have a splendid idea!" he announced. "There is something I would like to show you, Lagertha. A special place here in my villa where I like to relax. You two should come as well," he said, nodding at Judith and Athelstan.

Lagertha raised an eyebrow and turned to her friend. Athelstan guessed, from the look on her face, that she was wondering whether the king was proposing something she would not have expected from a Christian.

Athelstan smiled at her. "I think I know what he means," he told her in her language. "He has a special bathing room he likes to go to. I have not seen it myself, but I have heard of it from others who have been there."

"Ah!" She said, turning back to Ecbert. "I would like to see it, then!"

As they started off down the corridor toward the room in question, Judith hung back. Athelstan glanced over his shoulder. "Are you joining us? Or do you need to go back to your son tonight?"

She flashed a nervous smile and her cheeks flushed. "He is with a wet nurse this evening. I am free." Scurrying to catch up, she followed the other three.

 

Athelstan had tried to be polite and not stare, but there were only so many things to look at in the bath room that were not naked people. Ecbert and Lagertha sat close; every now and again, a hand would disappear under the water, and one or the other of them would let out a little mewl of delight.

Ecbert's nakedness had been both disturbing and uncomfortably arousing to him. In part, it reminded him of the body of the man he so dearly missed right now, and that alone made his own body respond involuntarily. Yet there was also something slightly frightening about how powerful the king remained even clad only in his skin. Had Athelstan been more openly receptive at the time, he was certain now that the king would have taken him, as Ragnar did, when he was living here before. In some ways, he was now very glad he had not been open to that.

Lagertha's nakedness, on the other hand, was wholly welcome to him, and had lit a fire within him that burned almost as strongly as the effects of the wine. It didn't help that every now and again, she threw a little glance his way. There was a teasing look to her expression, while at the same time it also warned: best not get too close, lest Ecbert think Athelstan was going to get in the way.

Then there was Judith. Though she kept her arms about her bosom and her knees drawn up, she looked radiant in the flickering torchlight. The wine had brought a lovely rose hue to her cheeks and chest, and she smiled and laughed readily. Athelstan was particularly surprised at the way she had looked at Lagertha as they disrobed; she seemed fascinated by the warrior's muscular limbs and network of battle scars. She had asked after the latter—particularly a deep cut near one hip—and Lagertha had only laughed. "If you like, I could teach you to use a sword," she told the young princess, who had quickly demurred.

Conversation and bodies became looser the longer they stayed in the warm, fragrant water, and the longer they kept draining cup after cup of wine. Athelstan's resolve began slipping, and he started to openly stare at the bath's other occupants. His wits still about him to some degree, he kept his distance from the king and the earl as they drew ever closer, but Judith he could not stay away from, especially when she began to relax, her limbs drifting away from where they had been guarding her body, and return the occasional lascivious looks with which he favored her. He was surprised, therefore, when she tensed, and rose to leave. As he made his way through the water to follow her, he saw something that helped him understand: trailing through the water near where she had sat were twin streaks of thick, white milk.

 

He knew that her walking away was for the best. Whatever desire she had, upon which she had almost acted, was likely inspired only by wine and circumstance. Had she been of clear head, and not surrounded by temptations of the flesh, she would never have even disrobed for the bath, he guessed.

As for himself, he felt strange as he stood there, contemplating what he should do next. His body was still afire, even if his heart was now heavy. Had Ragnar been nearby, he would have dragged the king into the nearest dark corner and begged to be taken. His lover, alas, was far away, likely asleep under the stars, if he had not perished in battle. Athelstan didn't think the latter had happened, though. Something in his heart told him he would know the moment Ragnar left this plane of existence to move to whatever afterlife had claimed him. For now, then, he missed the man only by his physical absence.

From the bath room nearby, he heard a series of telltale sighs and moans: one light, another deep and throaty. In his state, the sounds were as potent as any siren's call, and he made his way back up the steps. Damn the consequences, damn the potential regret—he could blame it on the wine if he must do later. He needed something—anything—to soothe this ache. As he caught sight of them, he froze, staring for a moment. He couldn't decide where he wanted to be: behind her, between them, or perhaps just somewhere within the reach of whoever wanted to caress him at the time. His mouth began to water. As he leaned forward, however, the swing of the chain around his neck made the gold cross dangling from it thump against his chest. His pagan side—the culture to which he had become accustomed—would have led him right back into the water to ask to join in whatever pleasures the other two were willing to provide. The cross, however, made him recall his conversation with Judith.

He knew temptations were often deliberately placed in one's path as a test of faith and piety. Was he Judith's, or was she his? His affair with Ragnar had caused him little concern, though he did feel uncomfortable with the obvious troubles of his lover's marriage. Judith, however, was a completely different story. Sex for her, while it might mean momentary pleasure and comfort, would come with serious, lasting consequences.

As for the two still in the bath, he knew that such harsh consequences would be unlikely. Though Ecbert was undoubtedly possessive of the earl, Athelstan would nonetheless likely have been welcome to join them, if he was careful about it. But the pangs of duty and shame that had made Judith leave also arose within him. Some of it was duty to God—having spent most of his life as an ascetic, the wantonness of having sex with two at once took him aback. Some of it, though, was duty to Ragnar, and that pull was even stronger than the one of the Divine. Logically, he doubted Ragnar would have begrudged him a bit of itch-scratching with someone else while they were parted. Indeed, he'd occasionally tried to interest Athelstan in one of the lovely young shieldmaidens in their company. Yet those women were not the two people currently coupling in the water nearby. They did not hold the same importance in Ragnar's life, nor the same power. Just as Ecbert might have begrudged Athelstan and Lagertha having a tryst without him, Ragnar's possessiveness might flare up if he knew that the Saxon king had had both of the people he desired most in the world. Heart suddenly sick at the thought of hurting his beloved, Athelstan ducked back down the stairs, heaving a great sigh.

His body, angry at being overridden by his conscience, still burned, however. Looking around to be certain there was no-one nearby, Athelstan sat down on the bench Judith had vacated. Loosening the cloth around his waist, he slipped a hand into its folds. To his ears, the sounds from the other room had switched from Lagertha and Ecbert to Lagertha and Ragnar. And in his mind's eye, he was right there with them.


End file.
